Not So Smart After All

Some of life's lessons come a little harder than others...

During my childhood, I was often praised for my intelligence. If I had a penny for every time I heard “You’re so smart,” I wouldn’t exactly be a millionaire, but I wouldn’t be a penniless writer either. (Come on, do the math… that would mean I’d have heard the aforementioned phrase 100 million times, which equates to about once every six seconds for eighteen years)

As I matured, I realized I was a little smarter than your average bear, but I also recognized that there was more to life than book smarts. Consequently, I didn’t study hard and earn straight A’s, but I did spend a lot of time playing, making friends and experiencing what life has to offer. I tried to keep a good balance between learning and having fun, and in retrospect I believe that I did a pretty good job. I became a well-rounded human being.

There was one lesson, however, that took a long time to sink in. In fact, it’s a lesson that I’m still learning. You see, I’ve always been a trusting person by nature, believing that people are basically good (with a few exceptions, of course). Granted, I’ve never been taken in by a Nigerian money scam, and I’ve always been astute enough to grasp the few times that my life or well-being were in danger, but I must admit that my belief in the basic goodness of humanity has left me a little gullible at times.

The trust I’ve had in mankind has simultaneously been one of my greatest attributes and my Achilles’ heel. My confidence in humanity has allowed me to be an open and forthright person, based on the belief that my honesty would be reciprocated. For much of my life, this faith was confirmed, allowing me to blindly suppose that my sentiment was correct. In fact, I made it into my 30’s before I really began to question my conviction regarding man’s basic decency. On the rare occasion that my understanding was called into question, I simply fell into cognitive dissonance, and in the worst cases wrote them off as bad.

During the last decade though, I’ve run into an increasing number of co-workers, acquaintance, friends and even loved ones who seem to have gone out of their way to shatter my illusion of society’s basic goodness. And as I look back on some of the biggest betrayals, I realize that I really should have seen it coming.

My illusion allowed me to lead a very happy life for over three decades, but it has also left me open to immense pain, brought on because I took the betrayal of trust very personally. To make matters worse, my forgiving nature allowed me to be hurt repeatedly by the same individuals before eventually writing them off as a bad person. Now, after almost forty years of life experience, I have begun to truly understand that my perception has been unnecessarily black and white, and I need to replace my faith in humanity’s altruism with a more accurate philosophy.

As I consider this radical perception change, I also realize that I don’t want to replace my inaccurate belief with bitterness. I don’t want to build emotional barriers that impede my existing relationships and preclude the possibility of future friendships. Though I can no longer trust people to the same extent as before, I do not want to become the cynic that refuses to look at the beauty that God has provided us.

With that said, I think I’ve come up with a workable theory that accurately supersedes my belief in the benevolence of man without completely negating it. We are neither innately good nor bad, we’re simply self-serving. We do what we do in order to preserve or advance our own well-being. This accounts for virtually all of our collective behavior… the good… the bad… even the seemingly contradictory behavior shown within a given individual.

This premise seems to explain everything when it comes to our actions. The criminal? Well, he steals, murders, or whatever because he’s acting in his own perceived self-interest. The cheating wife? She’s unfaithful because sexual gratification or emotional fulfillment is more important to her than the sanctity of marriage. The minister? He’s forgiving because getting into heaven is more important than revenge on earth. The philanthropist? She donates time and money because she wants her name on a plaque for the next hundred years, or because it makes her happy, not specifically because it makes others feel a certain way. The vegetarian? He chooses to refrain from eating meat not because it makes the animal feel better, but because it makes him feel better. One person is a workaholic because money is important, and another works part time because family takes priority. I can’t think of a single instance where this theory doesn’t apply.

The more I look at this theory, the more I like it... and the more I think “Duh! Why didn’t I realize this before?” Maybe it’s because I’m not so smart after all.